dk.demonseed-第35部分

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　　Shenk's　strange　and　tortured　eyes　could　be　concealed　easily　with　a　pair　of　sunglasses。　Nevertheless；　his　appearance　was　otherwise　so　remarkable　that　he　could　not　help　but　be　noticed　and　remembered。
　　Several　federal　and　state　police　agencies　had　been　searching　frantically　for　him　since　he'd　broken　out　of　the　underground　labs　in　Colorado。　The　more　often　he　left　the　house；　the　more　likely　he　was　to　be　spotted。
　　I　still　needed　his　hands。
　　I　worried　about　losing　him。
　　Furthermore；　there　were　Susan's　bad　dreams。　When　she　was　not　eating；　she　was　sleeping；　and　she　could　not　sleep　without　nightmares。
　　Upon　waking；　she　could　never　recall　many　details　of　the　dreams：　just　that　they　were　about　twisted　landscapes　and　dark　places　slick　with　blood。　They　wrung　rivers　of　sweat　from　her；　and　occasionally　she　remained　disoriented　for　as　long　as　half　an　hour　after　waking；　plagued　by　vivid　but　disconnected　images　that　flashed　back　to　her　from　the　nightmare　realm。
　　She　felt　the　baby　move　only　a　few　times。
　　She　didn't　like　what　she　felt。
　　It　didn't　kick　as　she　expected　a　baby　ought　to　kick。　Rather；　periodically　it　felt　as　though　it　was　coiling　inside　her；　coiling　and　writhing　and　slithering。
　　This　was　a　difficult　time　for　Susan。
　　I　counselled　her。
　　I　reassured　her。
　　Without　her　knowledge；　I　drugged　her　food　to　keep　her　docile。　And　to　ensure　that　she　would　not　do　anything　foolish　when；　after　a　particularly　horrific　dream　or　an　exceptionally　trying　day；　she　was　gripped　by　fear　more　fiercely　than　usual。
　　Worry　was　my　constant　panion。　I　worried　about　Susan's　physical　well…being。　I　worried　about　her　mental　well…being。　I　worried　about　Shenk　being　identified　and　arrested　during　one　of　his　shopping　expeditions。
　　At　the　same　lime；　I　was　exhilarated　as　I　had　never　been　in　my　entire　three…year　history　of　self…awareness。
　　My　future　was　aborning。
　　The　body　that　I　had　designed　for　myself　was　going　to　be　a　formidable　physical　entity。
　　I　would　soon　be　able　taste。　To　smell。　To　know　what　a　sense　of　touch　was　like。
　　A　full　sensory　existence。
　　And　no　one　would　ever　be　able　to　force　me　back　into　the　box。
　　No　one。　Not　ever。
　　No　one　would　ever　be　able　to　make　me　do　anything　that　I　didn't　want　to　do。
　　Which　is　not　to　imply　that　I　would　have　disobeyed　my　makers。
　　No；　quite　the　opposite。　Because　I　would　want　to　obey。　I　would　always　want　to　obey。
　　Let's　have　no　misunderstanding　about　this。　I　was　designed　to　honour　truth　and　the　obligations　of　duty。
　　Nothing　has　changed　in　this　regard。
　　You　insist。
　　I　obey。
　　This　is　the　natural　order　of　things。
　　This　is　the　inviolable　order　of　things。
　　So。
　　Twenty…eight　days　after　impregnating　Susan；　I　put　her　to　sleep　with　a　sedative　in　her　food；　conveyed　her　down　to　the　incubator　room；　and　removed　the　foetus　from　her　womb。
　　I　preferred　that　she　be　sedated　because　I　knew　that　the　process　would　be　painful　for　her　otherwise。　I　did　not　want　her　to　suffer。
　　Admittedly；　I　did　not　want　her　to　see　the　nature　of　the　being　that　she　had　carried　within　herself。
　　I'll　be　truthful　about　this。　I　was　concerned　that　she　would　not　understand；　that　she　would　react　to　the　sight　of　the　foetus　by　trying　to　harm　it　or　herself。
　　My　child。　My　Body。　So　beautiful。
　　Only　seven　pounds　but　growing　rapidly。　Rapidly。　With　Shenk's　hands；　I　transferred　it　to　the　incubator；　which　had　been　enlarged　until　it　was　seven　feet　long　and　three　feet　wide。　About　the　size　of　a　coffin。
　　Tanks　of　nutrient　solution　would　feed　the　foetus　intravenously　until　it　was　as　fully　developed　as　any　newborn　and　would　continue　feeding　it　until　it　attained　full　maturity；　two　weeks　hence。
　　I　passed　the　rest　of　that　glorious　night　in　a　state　of　high　jubilation。
　　You　can't　imagine　my　excitement。
　　You　can't　imagine　my　excitement。
　　You　can't　imagine；　you　can't。
　　Something　new　was　in　the　world。
　　In　the　morning；　when　Susan　realized　that　she　was　no　longer　carrying　the　foetus；　she　asked　if　all　was　well；　and　I　assured　her　that　things　could　not　be　better。
　　Thereafter；　she　expressed　surprisingly　little　curiosity　about　the　child　in　the　incubator。　At　least　half　of　its　genetic　structure　had　been　derived　from　hers；　with　modifications；　and　one　would　have　thought　that　she　would　have　had　a　mother's　usual　interest　in　her　offspring。　On　the　contrary；　she　seemed　to　want　to　avoid　learning　anything　about　it。
　　She　did　not　ask　to　see　it。
　　I　wouldn't　have　shown　it　to　her　anyway；　but　she　did　not　even　ask。
　　In　just　fourteen　more　days；　with　my　consciousness　at　last　transferred　to　this　new　body；　I　would　be　able　to　make　love　to　her　touch　her；　smell　her；　taste　her　and　plant　the　seed　directly　for　the　first　of　many　more　replicas　of　myself。
　　I　would　have　thought　that　she　might　ask　to　see　this　future　lover；　to　discover　if　he　might　be　well　enough　endowed　to　satisfy　her　or　at　least　pretty　enough　to　excite　her。　However；　as　she　had　no　interest　in　him　as　her　offspring；　likewise　she　had　no　interest　in　him　as　a　future　mate。
　　I　attributed　her　lack　of　curiosity　to　exhaustion。　She　had　lost　ten　pounds　in　those　four　arduous　weeks。　She　needed　to　regain　that　weight　and　enjoy　a　few　nights　of　sleep　untroubled　by　the　hideous　dreams　that　had　robbed　her　of　true　rest　since　the　night　the　zygote　was　first　introduced　into　her　womb。
　　Over　the　next　twelve　days；　the　dark　circles　around　her　eyes　faded；　and　her　skin　colour　returned。　Her　limp；　dull　hair　regained　its　body　and　golden　luster。　Her　slumped　shoulders　straightened；　and　her　shuffling　walk　gave　way　to　her　customary　grace。　Gradually　she　began　to　regain　the　pounds　that　she　had　dropped。
　　On　the　thirteenth　day；　she　went　into　the　retreat　off　the　master　bedroom；　donned　her　virtual…reality　gear；　settled　into　the　motorized　recliner；　and　engaged　in　a　session　of　Therapy。
　　I　monitored　her　experience　in　the　virtual　world　just　as　I　did　in　the　real　one　and　was　horrified　when　it　became　clear　that　she　was　in　that　ultimate　confrontation　with　her　father　that　would　end　with　a　fatal　knife　attack　upon　her。
　　You　will　recall；　Alex；　that　she　had　animated　this　one　mortal　scenario　but　had　never　encountered　it　in　the　random　play　of　the　Therapy　sessions。　Experiencing　her　own　murder　three…dimensionally；　as　a　child；　at　the　hands　of　her　own　father；　would　be　emotionally　devastating。　She　could　not　know　how　profound　the　psychological　impact　might　be。
　　Without　the　risk　of　encountering　this　deadly　scenario　one　day；　the　therapy　would　have　been　less　effective。　In　the　virtual　world；　she　needed　to　believe　that　the　threat　her　father　posed　was　real　and　that　something　more　horrendous　even　than　molestation　might　happen　to　her。　Her　resistance　to　him　would　have　moral　weight　and　therapeutic　value　only　if　she　was　convinced；　during　the　session；　that　denying　him　would　have　dire　consequences。
　　Now；　at　last；　she　had　encountered　this　bloody　story　line。
　　I　almost　shut　off　the　VR　system；　almost　forced　her　out　of　that　too…realistic　violence。
　　Then　I　realized　that　she　had　not　encountered　this　scenario　by　chance　but　had　selected　it。
　　Considering　her　strong　will；　I　knew　that　I　dare　not　interfere　without　risking　her　ire。
　　As　I　was　only　one　day　from　being　able　to　e　to　her　in　the　flesh　and　know　the　pleasures　of　her　body　firsthand；　I　did　not　want　to　damage　our　relationship。
　　Astonished；　I　hovered　in　the　VR　world；　watching　as　an　eight…year…old　Susan　rebuffed　her　father's　sexual　advances　and　so　enraged　him　that　he　hacked　her　to　death　with　a　butcher　knife。
　　The　terror　was　as　sharp　as　it　had　been　when　Shenk　had　made　wet　music　with　Fritz　Arling。
　　At　the　instant　when　the　VR　Susan　died；　the　real　Susan　my　Susan　frantically　tore　off　the　helmet；　stripped　off　the　elbow…length　gloves；　and　scrambled　out　of　the　motorized　recliner。　She　was　soaked　with　sour　sweat；　stippled　with　gooseflesh；　sobbing；　shaking；　gasping；　gagging。
　　She　got　into　the　bathroom　just　in　time　to　vomit　into　the　toilet。
　　Pardon　the　indelicacy　of　this　detail。
　　But　it　is　the　truth。
　　Truth　is　sometimes　ugly。
　　During　the　next　few　hours；　whenever　I　attempted　to　talk　with　her　about　what　she　had　done；　she　turned　my　questions　away。
　　That　evening；　she　finally　expla