The Adjusters Read online

  “That could be dangerous,” the other technician said. “We’re already seeing signs of psychosis in the older kids.”

  The first technician shrugged. “He’s the boss. And he said he wanted more obedience.”

  “Okay then,” the other replied, pressing a button. A track began to play softly in the background. Henry recognized it immediately – the strange version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” Malcorp High broadcast at the beginning and end of every week. The technician adjusted something and the sound became even more distorted.

  “Bringing in Mallory’s message,” the other tech said, clicking a mouse to add another audio file under the main track. Henry strained to make out Mallory’s voice speaking on the track…

  “…you love Malcorp…love and respect your parents…your teachers…the employees of Malcorp…you will not question anything we do…you will obey without question…you love Malcorp…you will obey without question…”

  “Taking it down to sub-audio level,” the first tech said and Mallory’s voice faded out. “Increasing the theta wave frequency by fifteen per cent.”

  “Okay,” replied the second tech. “Now shut it down before it gives me a nosebleed.”

  “Yeah.” The first tech nodded, rising from his seat as he cut the audio. “I need a coffee.”

  In the ventilation shaft, Henry looked back at Gabrielle. “That music. They’re using it to control the kids in the complex. There’s a subliminal message running through it.”

  A sudden scratching sound came from further down the shaft. Gabrielle started. “Do you think there are rats in here?” she said. “I want to get out.”

  Henry nodded and led the way further along the shaft, looking for another vent that they could climb through. Turning a corner, he came to a grille that looked into a darkened room. With just a little pressure, he managed to pop it out and slide it to one side. The room was silent as he slipped out of the shaft and turned to help Gabrielle. They stood up behind a low counter and looked around – the room was a lab of some kind. The main lights were off, but illuminated dials and read-outs glowed from equipment laid out on workbenches. Looking around, Henry could see it was some kind of production facility – complete with glass vats full of the spider-like implants hanging in suspension.

  Got to record the evidence, Henry thought. He remembered his smartphone, which was still in the pocket of his jeans. Useless for making a call within the complex, of course, but perfect for collecting evidence.

  Gabrielle tugged on his shirt. “I don’t like this,” she hissed. “We need to go.”

  Henry looked back at her. “We will. Let me just get a couple of shots.” He held the phone up to the vats and snapped off some photos of the floating implants. He had to smile. Fox was going to go crazy over this.

  “Someone’s coming!” cried Gabrielle, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. They ran behind the counter and ducked down just as the lights in the laboratory flicked on blindingly full. Gabrielle squeezed herself back into the vent and beckoned for Henry to follow, but the sound of a familiar voice from the doorway made him pause. Moving to the end of the counter, he peered round the side and saw Mallory enter, along with a group of men and women in suits. He was addressing them as if they were on some kind of tour. Several of the guests were decked out in full military uniforms, as if they were high-ranking commanders of foreign armies.

  “Henry!” Gabrielle whispered. He looked round and held up his hand. He needed to see what was going on. From the vent opening, Gabrielle gave him a desperate look, but she stayed where she was. Waving at her to stay calm, he turned his attention back to the room…

  Mallory strode into the middle of the area and gestured for his guests to assemble in a semicircle along one wall. He waved a hand at the equipment and the giant vats.

  “This is the main operations area,” Mallory said proudly. “Two years ago we began experimenting on rats, developing a neural modification system that allowed us total control over their central nervous systems. Motor functions. Behaviour. Learned skills. We achieved complete control. Stage two was work on primates, followed by stage three: human subjects. As I’m sure you can appreciate, there’s a massive leap between controlling a rat brain and that of a child.”

  The group erupted into conversation. Mallory allowed the chatter to go on for a moment, then silenced them by raising his hand.

  “I know you have a thousand questions,” he said, “which is why my staff will be on hand for the rest of your stay to take you through the process – including my head physician, Dr. Chancellor.” He indicated the doctor, who had appeared in the doorway of the lab. “She’ll be able to explain the technicalities of the adjustment process from a medical-scientific perspective – within reason. We’re not going to give away all of our secrets, of course. You can also get a look at some walking-talking test subjects at our high school. Our staff don’t just work here, they’ve been among the first to sign their kids up for neural adjustment.” He laughed and pulled a cigar from his pocket. “We’re not in the business of making new people. We’re in the business of making better people. Does anyone have any questions?”

  One of the men, a short guy with a hard face and small, round glasses walked from the group towards the implant vat. He tapped the glass, making the spider-machines wriggle, and looked round at Mallory. “I want a better look at one.”

  Mallory nodded at Chancellor, who crossed to the tank and removed the lid. With a pincer tool, she carefully reached inside to retrieve one of the implants.

  “We call it the SPIDIR,” Mallory said, as the doctor removed the dripping implant from the tank.

  “SPIDIR?” asked a man in a green general’s uniform, complete with a chest full of medals.

  “Stands for Skills/Personality/Intellect Direct Instruction Receptor,” Chancellor said, holding out the machine for the man to see. As he reached to take it from her, she held it back. “Please. It is very delicate.”

  The short man looked at Mallory, who sighed.

  “Why don’t you tell our guests how it works?” Mallory said to the doctor.

  “The SPIDIR is embedded into the brain matter of the subject,” Chancellor said, holding up the implant for everyone to see. “The central receiver” – she pointed to the round “body” section – “is linked in to the central cortex. The receiver picks up instructions and information from us sent via theta wave technology. The information is transported from the central receiver to the ganglions…” She indicated the eight dangling “legs”, which were wriggling madly in the air. “These ganglions link into each of the major sections of the brain.”

  Beside the counter, Henry angled the phone so the camera was focused on the action and pressed record. The video of Mallory should get someone in the FBI or the CIA or at least the police interested. What they were saying was incredible. This SPIDIR device had clearly been implanted in the brains of every adjusted kid in Newton – controlling their actions at the whim of Mallory and his doctors…adjusting their personalities and moods…

  “Our scientists have already cloned a brain from stem cells,” said another member of the audience, a guy in a suit who had the same military bearing as the others nonetheless. “How is this different?”

  “Your scientists might be able to clone a brain,” Dr. Chancellor said, moving towards the group. “But to what end? I am sure you are aware, a cloned brain is merely an empty vessel. Devoid of knowledge, memories, skills. Even if you implant it in a donor body, you create nothing more than a zombie – a creature without thoughts.”

  “Why go to the trouble of cloning a brain when you can improve what’s there already?” Mallory said, waving his cigar at the vat. “A scan is taken of a subject’s brain, pre-operation. This is to ensure the subject is viable and to gauge the best implantation points for the…” He struggled for the word.

  “Ganglions,” Chancellor said.

  “Ganglions,” Mallory repeated. “This allows for maximum control and
responsiveness from each subject. As I’m sure you can appreciate, every brain is different.”

  “But what is the purpose of all this messing around in brains?” an Italian-sounding woman asked.

  Mallory shrugged. “Imagine being able to copy the knowledge and skills of your best scientists. Your most gifted soldiers. And then implant that knowledge into the bodies of… How shall I put it? Less productive members of your societies. The neural patterns of a gifted and loyal warrior can be copied simply by scanning the subject’s brain, loaded into the SPIDIR…and then implanted into the brain of a test subject. Creating an equally gifted soldier.”

  This caused a stir among the audience. Henry remembered the scan they’d given him and he felt a chill – had his knowledge, his memories been mapped onto one of these SPIDIRs? Mallory had told him he wanted his initiative. Could that aspect of his personality already have been tapped and put into someone else’s brain? And would that brain think like him? The thought made his flesh crawl.

  “But that’s only the beginning,” Mallory continued, seeing he really had the attention of his audience now. “Once implanted with a SPIDIR, the subject gains two massive advantages: increased intellectual capacity and the potential for us to implant a wide variety of information. Give me a day, and I can create a subject who is fluent in twenty languages…able to solve the most complex mathematical problems… Or with our military programmes, a soldier willing to push his body to breaking point at your command.” Mallory nodded at them. “That’s right. Your command. Every Malcorp SPIDIR comes with certain fail-safes built in – most importantly complete, unquestioning loyalty to the controller.”

  “You’re talking about brainwashing,” a British-accented man said. “It doesn’t work. Our scientists have been trying to develop it since the 1950s.”

  Mallory looked at him. “So has the CIA – and you’re quite right, brainwashing in the traditional sense doesn’t work. But it does with our SPIDIR implants.” He nodded to Dr. Chancellor. “Let’s give them a demonstration.”

  The doctor walked to the door and opened it. Henry stifled a gasp as Christian appeared. So they had experimented on him… A wave of remorse and guilt washed over Henry. How could he have left his friend in the medical centre the night they broke in. Was it too late to save him now?

  On Chancellor’s command, Christian walked into the centre of the room and stood before the audience. His expression was blank and he didn’t react at all as Mallory placed a hand on his forehead and lifted his hair away to expose his scalp.

  “This subject had a SPIDIR implanted less than forty-eight hours ago,” Mallory explained. “The boy is now fluent in six European languages, is expert in applied mathematics and has an unquestioning respect for authority. A new-found desire to exercise will transform his body over the coming weeks.” Mallory ran a finger across Christian’s forehead. “Notice the lack of cranial scarring due to our patented healing accelerators. The operation takes less than thirty minutes. You can have a skull opened, the SPIDIR implanted, and closed up before anyone knows what happened – especially useful for covert operations.”

  Someone at the back asked, “Can more information be mapped onto the SPIDIR post-implantation?”

  “This is achieved by wireless upgrade – simple,” Chancellor said with a snap of her fingers.

  As members of the group muttered among themselves, Henry looked away in disgust. So, this was what it came down to – the kids at the Malcorp complex were all part of some experiment to create a generation of emotionless, robotic followers. A technology that Mallory was selling to the highest bidder. And their parents had signed them right up for it – just as long as they kept on getting top grades. Poor Christian.

  “You say you have made him into some kind of genius?” a bearded general said sceptically. “He looks like a sleepwalker.”

  Mallory held up a hand. “He’s merely in a fugue mode built into the brain implant. This state can be triggered at will by the subject’s operator – usually by a targeted theta wave combined with a command phrase, but for larger scale pacification the trigger could be built into a sound wave broadcast across an entire city. In this state he’s highly suggestible, impervious to pain…”

  Dr. Chancellor proved this by removing a pin from her coat and pricking Christian on the arm. He didn’t flinch.

  “…and will remember nothing after the fugue is cancelled. However, he is also fully capable of following orders from an operator. Let me give you an example.”

  Mallory opened a desk drawer and removed an automatic pistol. Then he took out a sleek silver bullet-shaped object. Pressing a small button on this, he said to Christian, “Initiate.”

  Christian immediately stiffened to attention at the command word, like some kind of soldier. From his hiding place by the counter, Henry shook his head. It was like looking at a different person – a machine rather than his friend.

  Mallory held up his hand so the audience could see the tiny device. “The Initiator is a simple wireless theta-wave command switch used in conjunction with the command word. It also has an emergency kill-switch built in.” He pointed to a red button on the other side. “When the Initiator is placed at the base of the subject’s skull and the kill-switch depressed, it sends a concentrated electronic burst to the SPIDIR, deactivating it. Only to be used in a last resort, of course.”

  “Why?” the bearded general asked.

  “Because the deactivation is permanent. And it would most likely lead to some brain damage for the subject.”

  “Most likely?”

  “Well, we haven’t ever had cause to try it out. Our SPIDIRs are one hundred per cent safe, after all.”

  “Then why have the kill switch?”

  Mallory grinned at him. “I’m overly cautious. Now, back to the demonstration.” He handed the gun to Christian. “Field-strip this, Christian. With your eyes closed, please.”

  Henry eyed the Initiator in Mallory’s hand. If I could just get my hands on one of those, he thought. It could be used to control the adjusted kids and shut down their SPIDIR implants. Mallory’s words echoed in his head: some brain damage… But what was the alternative? Remaining one of Mallory’s slaves for the rest of your life? He knew that if he had a SPIDIR in his head, he’d be prepared to take the risk.

  Across the room, Christian took the gun, moved to the nearest workbench and started taking the weapon apart. Henry noticed the way he laid out the component parts of the pistol in a neat line, as if it was an operation he’d done many times before. Christian had his eyes clamped shut as he did this.

  “Military training that would take years has been implanted in seconds,” Mallory said as Christian reassembled the gun, slotted the clip into the handle and opened his eyes. He held out the weapon for Mallory’s inspection. “Very good, Christian,” he said, before turning back to the audience. “But what good is training without the will to use it?”

  Mallory took a step back and looked around the room, his eyes falling upon a swivel chair in the corner. “Shoot the chair, Christian.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, Christian raised the gun and put a round through the back of the chair. Everyone in the room jumped as the noise echoed around the room. Mallory grinned at the stir he’d created.

  “Quite a shot for a fourteen year old, don’t you think?” he said. “Now, Christian. Shoot me.”

  Christian raised the gun and aimed it at Mallory’s head. The weapon trembled in his hand and his face screwed up in concentration, as if he was desperately trying to pull the trigger, but just couldn’t do it.

  “Shoot me, Christian. Do as you are ordered.”

  Christian gave a whine of agony as he continued to fight against himself.

  “Okay! Stop!”

  Christian breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the gun. Mallory looked at the stunned audience.

  “Like I said, certain fail-safes are built into every SPIDIR,” he explained. “Subjects who have undergone adjustment wil
l do as they’re told, but not to the point they can be used against you. The idea of doing anything to harm myself or any other Malcorp employee is so deeply ingrained in Christian’s new brain that he couldn’t have pulled that trigger, even if he thought I would have caused him terrible harm. Complete obedience, that’s what we offer, ladies and gentlemen. Imagine taking the most troublesome people in your countries and having them adjusted. No more protests… No more annoying Facebook pages and Twitter feeds putting down your governments… Just happy citizens. Productive citizens.”

  Henry looked in disgust at the approving nods from the group.

  Only the bearded general looked unimpressed. “Will he follow my commands?”

  “If I order him to.”

  “Good. I want my own demonstration.”

  Mallory studied the man carefully before saying, “Of course.” He looked at Christian. “This is General Aziz, Christian. You’re to follow his instructions as if they were from me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Christian’s voice sounded different. It was flat and dead. It could have been anyone’s.

  General Aziz stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Give me the gun.”

  Christian handed it across. Aziz ejected the clip and inspected it, as if checking to see that the bullets were real. Satisfied, he reloaded the gun and pointed it at Christian’s head. Henry stifled a cry… But Christian didn’t even flinch.

  “Good,” General Aziz said with a little laugh. “He’d just stand there and let me shoot him?”

  “Absolutely,” Mallory said. “If you asked him to, he’d even help you line up the shot.” If he was nervous, he was doing a good job of not showing it.

  “That’s very good.” General Aziz handed the gun back to Christian…but the demonstration wasn’t over. “Shoot yourself,” the man commanded.

  “Now hold on…” Mallory said as Christian placed the gun under his own chin.