After the Second Fall

After the brief interlude, Maggie waved to Rosie and went off while Ruth made her way back. "Ladies," she said, addressing the seated women, "please excuse us."

Ruth hooked her arm through Rosie's and led her to the door. "Rosie, walk with me for a while. I'm going to show you where you will be sleeping." A short while later they were back at the storeroom. "From here, your room is just around the corner. Since you seemed to get along with Maggie, I'm going to put you with her and her roommate. They will show you around and help you learn your role.

"But that is all for tomorrow. Today, I just want you to rest. Sleep as much as you can, eat when you are hungry, and I will see you back in the Lounge tomorrow morning by the eighth bell. You have already seen the shower, the kitchen, and the Lounge -- do you think you can navigate well enough on your own?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm pretty good with directions."

"Very good. And you will call me Ruth when we're alone. Otherwise, I am Madame Bower. We need to keep up appearances after all," she finished with a smile. "See you tomorrow, Honey."

Truly shocked at the turn her life had taken, Rosie walked slowly to her new room. There were two sets of stacked beds complete with sheets, blankets, and pillows, two simple metal chairs, and four shelves. The two lower beds and the two lowest shelves had assorted personal items, so she climbed on the nearest top bunk, closed her eyes, and was asleep in moments.

Chapter 3

Like more than half the room's occupants, John stood against the wall watching the heated discussion's as-yet-undetermined end draw closer. Argument had already proceeded for more than a half bell, which was very rare in this forum. Around the room's central table sat the five members of the Complex Council. Dr. Shepard sat in the final chair, also waiting for the decision, his report having been the impetus for the discourse. On one side of the debate was Richard Jacobs, head of Research & Development, who was vigorously defending the current Adam design. Director Richards was an obsessively fit man more than halfway through his expected lifespan. Aggressively confident in his approach to all of life's challenges, he was in the process of arguing opinions as facts -- his favorite tactic toward winning arguments.

His current opponent was Director Ronald Baker, Head of Special Projects. Like Richards, Director Baker was no pushover, having risen to his Council seat in large part due to a series of inspired successes. Baker was a younger man, only now approaching midlife. He was highly energetic and tended to appear scatterbrained to those that didn't know him, often changing topics rapidly and arguing both sides of a given point. In this case, however, he was uncommonly focused.

"Director Richards, I freely concede your point that there is no good way to rigorously test the hypothesis proposed by Dr. Shepard. However, one does not simply discount ideas because they are difficult to demonstrate, especially when the potential benefits are so large."

"As a general statement, I fully agree, Director Baker," replied the older man. "The stakes here, as you know, are too high to move forward without confirmation. Furthermore, we cannot endanger multiple Adams from the pool without strong confidence that this approach is sound. Nor are the immature Adams a good test: this event may have been age related. Consequently, I do not see a clear path forward."

As Baker was about to respond, the Executive Director, seated at the head of the table, raised her hand and the younger man immediately abandoned whatever he was about to say. "Director Richards," she said looking down the table at him, "proceed with the bone density tests, both the real time scans as well as point samples. These data will be useful, regardless of the outcome.

"Choose three Adams from the pool, as well as one in each of the final three years. I want the point samples from throughout the body; you will determine the specifics. Work with Director Humbolt to select the least promising subjects in case they don't survive the testing."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Director Baker," she said, now looking down the other side of the table.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Choose one of the less promising Adams from the pool; Director Humbolt can help here as well. I want you to show him the results of Dr. Shepard's autopsy and train him to hit the target area with regularity. Work with Dr. Shepard to assess performance; if Dr. Shepard becomes satisfied that his hypothesis may still be valid, set up a one-off fight with another of the less promising Adams. Do not tell the second about this project; we need to know if the idea will hold up in real world conditions.

"Dr. Shepard, this is your top priority, excepting only immediate medical responses."

"Yes, ma'am."

"We will discuss results at the Council meeting after next." Here the Executive Director looked to the other members of the Adams Council, silently checking for dissent. Seeing none, she dismissed the meeting.

As the Council members were departing, John left his spot on the wall and sidled up to Geoffrey Humbolt, Director of Personnel, as he was leaving the room. "Hey, Geo, do you mind if I walk with you for a moment?"

The director kept moving as he responded, "Not at all, John, but you don't really need to make an argument. Pip doesn't make sense for this: he's as atypical as we've ever had, so who knows what we would find if we start dissecting him. No, we'll have to find different Adams."

"I was hoping you would say that. I agree that the results would be disputed, regardless of what they showed."

"Good. Anything else?" asked the man perfunctorily.

"Actually, yes. It won't take long, but it's best if we talk privately."

Humbolt stopped and looked up at John, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Alright, let's step into my office, but we need to keep it short -- I'm already late to my next appointment."

Facing each other across the director's desk in a small room without windows, buried in one of the Complex's lower floors, John started. "Geo, I don't have much confidence that Director Baker's efforts are going to be successful."

"Neither do I, John. After all this time, we're not likely to find a magic bullet."

"Yes, but that's not exactly what I meant. Have you reviewed the footage of Pip's fight in detail?"

"I've seen it several times, especially the fatal strike. So?"

"Did you notice anything strange about the way that the fight unfolded? Specifically about Pip?"

The director regarded the handler critically. "Listen, John, I don't know what you're driving at. Spell it out for me so I don't have to guess."

"Sorry, Geo, I was hoping that you saw what I saw.

"Look at the fight again. The way that Pip moved -- the way that he avoided punches at the last moment and then the accuracy of his own strike -- it's something different than we've seen. When I said that I don't think the program will work, it's because I don't think any of the other Adams can duplicate what Pip did, although I'm not sure myself what that actually was. Personally, I do think Dr. Shepard's hypothesis is valid."

The director raised his eyebrows again, this time genuinely surprised. "And what would you have me do?"

"If the fight happens, and if the demonstration is unsuccessful, I would like for you to argue for keeping the hypothesis alive."

"What would be the point? What is it I should argue for?"

"I want you to give Pip a fight against a pool Adam, and not one of the bottom feeders."

Humbolt was actually incredulous at this point. "As his handler, aren't you supposed to to try to keep Pip alive?"

"Yes, sir," John replied. "I know it doesn't make sense logically, but I have a strong feeling that he'll be able to do it again if the Adam doesn't know it's coming. Pip's different, we all know that. I suspect that whatever it is that went wrong with him, may have actually gone right, and we're about to learn what that means."

The director leaned back in his chair, considering the suggestion, as well the potential implications if John was right. "Let's see how the first fight goes, and we can talk again then."

"Thanks, Geo," said John, standing to leave. "Don't forget to take another look at Pip's fight -- you might consider watching it at half speed." His request made, John excused himself with a wave and walked back toward his own office.

Twelve days later, John Rogers and Geoff Humbolt sat side by side on folding chairs in the practice yard, watching the final preparation for the planned fight.

"So what did you think?" asked John.

"You were right that it was much easier to see with the speed slowed down, but I don't know if it's anything really that special. I've seen Adams before that could slip almost any punch. It's a skill for sure, but it's not magic."

"It's possible I am just seeing what I want to see; maybe it's because I like Pip."

"Oh, yeah?" asked the director. "I thought handlers didn't get attached."

"Well, that's normally true, but it's hard not to like Pip. He's automatically the underdog in everything he does, so he's easy to root for."

"Hmmm. Almost gives you hope that you could have been in the Adam program?"

"Ha!" barked John. "I wouldn't last past the opening exchange. I'd get beaten with the bloody end of my own arm. Have you seen the size of them?" asked John facetiously.

"Have you looked in the mirror, big man? I'd bet you could do the same to me if you had the inclination, and I'm not exactly small."

John smiled. "Well, that's what happens when your old man was an Adam. You know what the best part is?"

Humbolt look at John suspiciously. "Big dick?"

John laughed again. " I was going to say oversized brain, but that's not bad, either."

"Uh huh," came the response. "Why don't you keep that equally oversized mouth closed -- it looks like they're ready to start," said the director without rancor.

At opposite sides of the arena the two fighters were receiving final instructions from their respective handlers. The two of them, despite being relatively low in the Adam pool, were true specimens. Like typical Adams, they were were excessively tall, obscenely muscled, and frighteningly wide. Furthermore, these two had broad facial features and a medium skin tone, indicating they came from the same genetic stock. In the streets of Rieckenburg they would have been called twins, but that term didn't have any meaning within the Adam program.

"Which one is the test case?" asked John.

"The one on the far side, with the scar below his right ear. That's Mitch. The other is Topper. And before you ask, no, I don't know where the name came from."

"And they're identical?"

"As close as we could make them. Doesn't bode particularly well for that batch that they're both at the bottom of the pool, but at least they made it this far."

"Do they fight the same?"

"Not really. Somewhere along the line they diverged, developed their own personalities, preferences, whatever. That said, I don't think they've formally fought each other before. Should be interesting to see what happens."

"Always," agreed John.

Standing in the sand, the two fighters were ready to begin, muscles tensed and eyes focused on each other. The bell rang and they rushed together, eager to get directly into the fight. The initial exchange was as brutal as it was fast. Mitch, the fighter with the special instructions, was getting more than he was giving, consistently half a heartbeat slower as he tried to look for a specific opening in Topper's defense.

The Adams broke apart for a dozen beats before reengaging one another. This time Mitch feinted to the left and managed to sneak a right cross into Topper's ribs, but the latter shrugged it off as he had other strikes. In return, he split open Mitch's left cheek with a counter right. The violence of the blow staggered the Adam and sent him back two steps. This was followed up with several body punches, causing Mitch to drop his hands; Topper promptly introduced his forehead to his opponent's nose. Mitch's knees buckled and he folded awkwardly, head smacking the sand as he hit. The second ring was late in coming, allowing Topper to land several kicks to the ribs and an additional heel stomp to the solar plexus. When it did sound, Mitch was convulsing on the ground, vomiting blood even as more streamed out of the wound on the side of his face.

Taking in the scene, Director Humbolt nodded. "As I expected. Looks like we don't have a magic bullet after all."

"Come on, Geo, I told you this would happen. I would say the results are inconclusive, so please don't forget what I asked," interjected John quickly.

"I know, I know. I'm not going to commit to anything now -- I need to see how the Council meeting plays out. On the positive side, at least you only need to wait a couple days for an answer."

"Yeah, there is that. Anyway, thanks for at least considering it."

"Sure. Too bad the fight was so one sided, huh?."

"No doubt. I expected more from a pool Adam. Maybe he was too distracted, or focused, or whatever. Or maybe it's because his name was Mitch. What the hell kind of name is that for an Adam anyway?"

Humbolt laughed. "No idea, but I had the same reaction when I first heard it. Doesn't much matter any more -- I doubt Doc can fix that."

"No, probably not. Do you think he's going to tell us that a heel stomp to the sternum is also a magic bullet?"

"Not likely -- that's only the second or third time I've seen something like that work. No, I think that was just sloppy work from Twitch."

"Twitch? You mean Mitch?"

"Yeah. You saw him on the ground: Twitch seems more appropriate now."

"Nice," nodded John appreciatively. "And on that morbid note, I'm going to head back to my office. See ya later, Geo."

"Alright, John. Be good."

On his way, John found himself following behind two women wearing the uniforms of the PET department. Recognizing the distinctive walk of one, he called out, "Hello, Madame Bower. How are you today?"

Ruth Bower slowed but didn't stop. "Hello, Mr. Rogers," she said without turning around. "I'm doing well, thank you. Just heading back after taking my new charge up to see a fight for the first time. I'm sure you remember Rosie?"

"Of course I do," said John, smiling down at the girl who had turned to look over her shoulder as they moved along. "And what did you think of your first fight, Ms. Rosie?"

Rosie looked up again, but hesitated, trying to decided how to answer. "Well... it was, kind of, amazing and terrible at the same time." John arched his eyebrow questioningly.

"The Adams are so big, and so strong. I was in awe. I think I still am.

"And then when they fight, it's so... so... brutal? Terrible? Something. It's like their only purpose is to kill, and that's really, really intimidating, especially since I'll be around them every day. Does that make sense?"

John nodded reassuringly. "I know exactly what you mean. I will say that, like it or not, their purpose is actually to kill. It is literally why they exist: to win at all costs. That said, they're still kinda-sorta-mostly people like you or me -- just much, much bigger.

"Does that make you feel better?" John asked teasingly.

"Yeah, sure -- thanks," Rosie replied with a smirk.

"So, aside from being scared of the Adams that you're supposed to take care of, how are you finding your time here so far?"

Rosie stopped, bringing the threesome to an abrupt halt. She cocked her hip and added her hand for emphasis before responding. "First, I'm not scared of them -- just intimidated." Then she smiled broadly. "Second, I like it so much. I really can't thank you enough for taking me in. I've never had so much food and water, and Madame Bower even says I'm starting to fill out like a woman should," she said, emphasizing her point by raising her hands and spinning around. "See?"

John laughed and looked her up and down in a overly lecherous way, clearly meant to tease. "Absolutely." Rosie responded by sticking her tongue out.

John smirked back. "And where are you off to now?"

Clearly having no idea, Rosie shrugged and looked at her superior. Madame Bower responded, "Now that Rosie has some context as to why we're here, it's time she met some of the Adams, so I'll be taking her on rounds for the next several bells."

"Good for you -- it's about time she started doing some work to pay for all the food she's been eating." Rosie's reply this time was a huff and an exaggerated pout. John's smirk got bigger. "Well, Rosie, I hope you enjoy yourself -- my Mom always seemed to," said John with a wink toward Ruth.

"Er... thanks?" said Rosie as John waved and continued down the hall.

In his office after the hallway encounter, John continued to smile. Rosie looked so much better than she had when they first met. Her skin had a healthy glow and her face didn't look nearly so gaunt. She was still underweight, but clearly on the right track. Most importantly, at least to John, she seemed to be just as feisty as ever -- he was glad that the necessary formality of the Complex hadn't driven that out of her yet. Who knows, maybe it never would.

Regardless, he had more important things to consider, like how he was going to keep Pip from getting killed by a pool Adam. He couldn't tell Pip about the testing program -- that would defy the Council, if not directly, at least by intent. This meant that discussing strategy or practicing was out.

Or maybe not. Maybe John couldn't have Pip practice the particular strike that had killed Hammer, but they could try to practice that time-thing that Pip did. The problem was that John already knew that Pip hadn't been able to duplicate the Effect, which is what they had started calling it. They had tried to make it happen again during regular workouts, and even did some easy sparring between them, but that just left John with bruises on both his jaw and ego. They would have to get more creative, that was clear.

John kicked his feet up onto the oversized desk, thinking through possibilities. The most obvious approach was to whack Pip in the head again, but that would wait until all other possibilities were exhausted. It could be that the Effect was driven by a fear reaction, brought on by seeing Hammer bearing down. Or possibly a release of adrenaline? John didn't really pose a threat to Pip, so it could have been that Pip instinctually knew he was in no danger; thus, no real fear.

But how to get a true fear reaction without putting Pip in actual danger? It might not be possible. What's more, having just had a fight, Pip wouldn't come up in the regular rotation again for more than two weeks, and by then it would be too late to practice -- in fact, if John's request to Director Humbolt was granted, Pip might have already faced the pool Adam by then.

If they couldn't test fear, the could certainly test adrenaline. By the time the next bell struck, John was already on his way to find Pip, an idea having gone from inception to maturity very quickly.

After checking Pip's room, John found him in the middle of a cardio workout, dripping sweat but still running hard and looking like he had energy to spare.

"Yo, Pip!" he called, trying to flag him down from across the huge courtyard. "Come 'ere!"

Pip didn't slow his pace, but did cut short his circuit to comply with John's summons. When he arrived, he was breathing evenly and had no trouble speaking, despite the obvious intensity of his run. "Hey, John -- what's up?"

John jumped right in, excited to put his plan into motion. "I want to try again to duplicate the Effect."

Pip shrugged. "If you like. Should I try to pull my punches more this time?" he said with a smirk.