The Boo Angel

"Ted Sorensen."

"He's too old."

"He is otherwise not perfect, however. And I could extend his lifespan."

"You will not make any offers in this regard, to anyone. Am I making myself clear?"

Angel nodded. "I understand."

"Let's go to the lab. Mr. Richardson is waiting."

Bacon turned and made his way through the main building with her by his side, and as they crossed the campus he looked at the nearby linear accelerator beyond the little reservoir on the far side of the expansive lawn, and to Palo Alto beyond...but everything was brown now. Brown...and dry...and just above...an endless string of aircraft lining up to land at SFO. Like red blood cells in unseen arteries, life-giving oxygen in each aircraft moving around the body of the country...

He held the door open for her and followed her into the main lab.

Mr. Richardson was already there -- with one of Them.

He just couldn't get used to the sight of Them, either.

Ten feet tall, her pinkish body covered in feathers. Then there were the wings. Huge, leathery wings folded up against her back. And those amber eyes... He shuddered but nevertheless tried to hide his revulsion.

"Take off you clothes," Richardson said as his wheelchair approached Angel. "Show me your wounds."

"Looks like one round," Sumner Bacon said, bending down beside Richardson.

"Hand me some forceps, would you, please," Richardson said as he slipped a finger inside the spongy mesodermic layer. "I think I feel one, maybe two in here."

The Visitor stepped close and watched as Richardson removed two 9mm rounds from Angel's midsection, visibly quite curious now but still not speaking.

"Tell me," Richardson said to Angel now, "why do you think Sorensen is a viable target now?"

"First Mark Stuart, then Kenji Watanabe. Both immensely wealthy, and both disfigured, so both men powerful but vulnerable. So...similar to William Taylor in key ways. Sorensen is still both respected and powerful, yet his age makes him vulnerable. I think I can make that work to our advantage."

"I see. I need access to your primary port now, please," Richardson said, his voice soothing and calm.

Angel looked at the visitor, and when she nodded Angel knelt and lifted the hair above her neck, exposing a small mag-port. Sumner Bacon attached the port and stood back.

"Playback the moment of Ms. Collin's death," Richardson said gently, "would you, Angel?"

An image flickered and stabilized on a huge flat panel display, and everyone watched the final moments of the gun battle in the Burger King parking lot -- only from Angel's vantage point, because her 'eyes' had been recording everything that had happened -- for months.

She was kneeling in the image now, and on the screen everyone watched as Angel's hands cupped Jennifer's face, and when Bacon saw frothy blood welling up from her Collins' open mouth he wanted to turn away...

"Freeze frame here," Richardson said.

And the image froze.

"What were you doing here?" Richardson asked. "What were you doing with your hands?"

"Downloading her thoughts," Angel said.

"What? I wasn't aware you have that capability?"

"The included sensor array in my fingertips is more than capable, so I made the necessary adjustments to my programming," Angel said.

Richardson turned his wheelchair and looked into Angel's eyes. "And if you don't mind me asking, what else did you manage to download?"

"I am still collating data, Mr. Richardson, but I believe I may have also downloaded what you might call the soul."

"The...soul? Are you serious?"

"I am. I am now incorporating elements of this download into my programming."

"Downloading? A soul?"

"Yes. Along with her memories I was able to access personality traits and other trivial characteristics that belonged to Jennifer Collins. I think I have identified components of the soul, and assimilation of all these elements will be complete in approximately two hours. With this information, I will be ready to approach Ted Sorensen."

Bacon looked over at Richardson, the growing sense of alarm between them now almost palpable...but then he realized the Visitor had simply vanished.

'Now...why did She leave so suddenly...?' he wondered.

"What about the film?" Richardson wanted to know.

"Too much money has been invested in the project," Angel replied, "for work to be abandoned. I will approach Debra Sorensen first. She will know how to proceed."

Richardson looked at Angel carefully now. "I want you to proceed with extreme caution now. I'm not sure how we missed gang related involvement..."

"The group known as the Bloods has been utilizing homeless couriers to move drugs around the city," Angel said, interrupting Richardson. "When William Taylor began organizing a new approach to dealing with homelessness, the Bloods intervened."

"What?" Sumner Bacon cried. "For trying to help...?"

Angel looked at the two humans, on the verge of understanding them but still not quite, and in that moment she wondered if she really ever really could. So many contradictions. So much Love in perpetual conflict with layer upon layer of lingering Hate.

Maybe, she thought, the answer resides in this thing called Soul.

*

© 2021 adrian leverkühn | abw | all rights reserved, and as usual this was just a little bit of fiction, pure and simple.