Thoracic Park

by Don D’Ammassa

Illustration by Kelly Freas

Chirr was polishing a freshly uncovered human skull when the ornithopter landed just outside the encampment, causing great consternation among the broodlings who were methodically clearing away soil from their latest find. Kachinka, his mate, clashed her mandibles angrily and made an obscene gesture with her antennae.

“Attend to the site,” Chirr instructed. “I will deal with this.”

He sank into haste posture and used all six legs to cover the intervening space, but even so the newcomer had already disembarked. “Professor Chirr? It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Chirr rose to his full height and assumed the posture of outrage-verging-on-attack.

With a hasty, and rather superficial, adjustment to the stance of admission-of-error, the new arrival plunged on. “My name is Nakrok. I believe you’ve heard of me, though we’ve never met.”

Indeed he had. Chirr slowly adjusted to reflect acceptance-of-apology while he considered the situation. Nakrok was the chief sponsor of this expedition, and had donated fully half of the broodlings currently scouring the area for artifacts.

“What can I do for you, Broodmaster Nakrok?” His body curled into mild-but-respectful deference.

“I know how important this project is to you, Professor, but I need your assistance urgently.”

“My assistance?” Chirr switched to wary-cooperation.

“It will only be for a few days, I promise you, and your mate is welcome to come as well. I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, spared no expense.”

The ornithopter dropped so suddenly into the wilderness preserve that Chirr and Kachinka immediately assumed preparedness-for-sudden-flight, even though there was no place to run to. Their wings were vestigial, ornamental rather than practical, the power of flight long since sacrificed in return for increased body weight and nerve tissue.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Nakrok reassured them. “We’re just avoiding local turbulence.”

Chirr’s abdomen throbbed nervously and he picked up the conversation to take his mind off the plummeting ornithopter.

“You say you’ve built some kind of theme park based on the ancient human culture?”

“Some kind of theme park, yes.” Nakrok tried to suppress the tremor of triumph in his ventral lobes, but without much success. “But I’d much rather you wait to see it for yourself.” They were on the ground within moments, to Chirr’s considerable relief, and disembarked into a waiting centivan. The driver fed his vehicle brush while they climbed aboard, and the two rows of articulated feet tapped restlessly against the ground.

“Rather remote, isn’t it?” remarked Kachinka, who still resented being torn from her studies at the archaeological site.

“It’s an unusual location, but worth the trouble.” This time Nakrok’s tremor was much more pronounced.

They rode in silence, Chirr and Kachinka enjoying the vivid scenery despite their mystification about the purpose of the trip. The steady beat of the centivan’s legs was reassuring and Chirr was settling into a mini-estivation when he spotted something moving just beyond the trees to his right.

“Stop the van!”

The driver swiveled an eye stalk toward Nakrok, who signaled immediate-acquiescence. Kachinka glanced at her mate curiously but made no effort to follow when he stepped out of the vehicle. He moved only a few steps, fully upright, before catching sight of something so amazing that he momentarily lost control of his posture and sent a series of contradictory signals to his companions.

“That’s a human being!” he said at last. “A living human being!”

Kachinka’s head swiveled abruptly as she switched to suspicion-of-levity. Then she, too, spotted the pink creature picking berries from a clump of bushes just a few meters to one side of their route.

“Is it real or a construct?” Her voice betrayed the strain she felt.

“Oh, they’re all quite real, I assure you. There are no illusions here.”

“They?” Chirr turned to his host, slowly overcoming his confusion to assume respect-mixed-with-skeptical-reserve. “You have more than one of them?”

“Of course. Over a hundred in fact. So far.”

“But… but how?”

“Let me tell you.”

And tell them he did. DNA was fairly easy to come by because of the inexplicable human tendency to preserve their dead in sealed containers. There had even been some success cloning them, although without exception the living bodies that resulted were devoid of self-awareness.

“You’ve heard of motigen, I assume?”

Chirr nodded. “It’s the dynamic fluid manufactured by brain cells that determines which caste we join when we leave broodling stage.”

“Well, we theorized that the same mechanism was present in the human species, that it quietly directed each individual into an appropriate cultural role, but that its ephemeral nature made the substance impossible to find under normal circumstances.” Nakrok moved into imminent-revelation.

“But you found some anyway?” Kachinka prompted him, displaying curiosity-with-growing-impatience.

“That we did. Quite by accident, actually. One of my construction crews uncovered a buried installation that was still functional. It appears to have been some sort of nuclear powered cryogenic vault, and there were several hundred intact human bodies preserved inside. We think it was either a museum or some kind of strange religious cult. In any case, the important thing is that we found traces of motigen in most of the braincases.”

“But surely it would have deteriorated with the passage of so much time. The human species has been extinct for thousands of brood cycles.”

“None of the samples were undamaged, but by comparing what survived from one to another, we were able to run computer simulations that allowed us to extrapolate the missing data. We used surgical viruses to fill in the gaps and then began experimenting with bodies cloned from human DNA. Two years ago, we had our first success, and using accelerated growth techniques, we quickly populated the park. These,” he gestured toward two browsing humans, “are primitive experiments whose motigen was flawed. They can do little more than forage. But our recent arrivals are much more advanced. The insurance salesman even seems to understand simple body postures and spoken language.”

Chirr felt suddenly faint. “Insurance salesman? You have an insurance salesman?”

“Why, yes. We bred him right after the real estate agents. We plan a full range of attractions.”

Chirr and Kachinka were lost in their own thoughts as their journey resumed, and they became aware of their surroundings again only when the centivan paused before the towering gates to the main park. Above them, the silhouette of a bare-chested human figure had been painted onto the rightmost gate, both fists poised to pound a challenge on its obscenely hairy chest. On the opposite gate, a sign read simply: THORACIC PARK.

Chirr and Kachinka recovered some of their wits while being introduced to Grackl, whom Nakrok introduced as his game warden. “Grackl tells me when I’m taking foolish chances, you see. I have a tendency to get so involved with my work that I forget how dangerous these creatures are.”

“They don’t seem to move very quickly.”

“No, the fastest ones are the lawyers, and then only when we give them an ambulance to chase.”

Chirr was shocked. “Lawyers? You’ve bred lawyers?”

“Why, certainly. They were one of the most common breeds after all.”

“And the most dangerous.”

“That adds to the park’s atmosphere. But we’re actually quite safe. Each section of the park is surrounded by thornfire bush. In fact, we had to give the roots a mild local anaesthetic in order to open the main gate. They’re quite well contained.”

“But what if something happened?” Kachinka switched to alarm-with-mild-accusation. “What if they got out? Their breeding capacity is enormous. That’s what eventually destroyed them; they outran their food sources and their culture collapsed.” Chirr’s mandibles trembled at the very thought.

“No fear of that either. I assure you we’ve taken every precaution. The inhabitants of Thoracic Park are incapable of breeding. We’ve made sure of that.”

“But how?” demanded Chirr. “Those two we saw on the way in. Didn’t you say they were of different sexes?”

“Yes. But we’ve biologically altered them to prevent breeding. The humans were very much visually oriented in their sexual habits, you see, so we’ve made certain that they’re all very ugly.”

They met one more member of Nakrok’s staff at the park headquarters, a surly, overweight individual named Frell whose every posture included at least a hint of impatience-with-trifles.

“Frell is unhappy with me,” Nakrok admitted later. “He’s a contract botanist I hired to oversee the thornfire planting, and I’m afraid he underestimated the acidity of the soil. But a contract is a contract. He’s spun his web and now he’ll have to sleep in it.”

“You said you had some kind of automated tour set up for us?”

“Yes, indeed. We’re just waiting for the others. Alih, here they are now!” Chirr shifted to growing-unease-and-anticipation-of-distress when he saw the broodlings emerge from a nearby building. Fully six score of them, all exuding the same clan pheromone as did Nakrok himself.

“This is my most recent brood. They’ll be accompanying you on the tour.”

Chirr felt his posture shifting more definitely toward distress but Kachinka touched her antennae to his. “Steady. You can put up with them for a short time.”

He supposed she was right, but he didn’t have to like it.

The tour was not a great success. The real estate agents were too busy drawing lines in the soil and arguing with each other to pay attention to the tour van. The night watchmen were nocturnal and currently asleep, the accountant sat with his back to them, slowly moving stones from one pile to another, and the hairdresser was sick and sedated.

Then they reached the exterminator’s compound. Chirr and Kachinka peered through the ropes of thornfire bush but the dreaded creature, a monster whose name was used by brood-masters to frighten broodlings into behaving themselves, was nowhere to be seen. Chirr would have welcomed its presence for more than professional reasons. Nakrok’s broodlings were full of nervous energy, kept running across the ceiling of the van as well as the aisles, and were generally making nuisances of themselves. A little scare might help keep them in line.

If he’d known what was happening back at park headquarters, he might have altered his wish.

Frell assumed acceptance-under-protest and ended his interview with Nakrok, even though the posture had not reflected his true feelings. It was clear that the broodmaster would not agree to compensate him for the extra expenses he had incurred, and that in the ordinary course of events he would be compelled to dismember himself to appease his creditors. But Frell had a contingency plan.

He returned to his workroom and retrieved the vial concealed in an innocent bottle of mandibular cream, then filled a syringe and walked out onto the grounds. The nearest thorn-fire bush was only a few meters away. With a quick look around to make certain he was unobserved, Frell injected a contagious virus into the largest strand of thornbush within reach.

Within an hour, the entire thornfire containment system would be rendered temporarily inert. Frell already had samples of various strains of moti-gen concealed in his egg sacs. Once he reached the mainland, he’d sell them to one of Nakrok’s rivals.

Unfortunately, Frell didn’t know that his virus also affected the centi-vans. He would learn the truth shortly, when his stolen vehicle fell into a coma and left him at the mercy of a hungry laundromat attendant.

Chirr was too preoccupied to notice the first irregularity in the centi-van’s movement, but Kachinka picked it up right away.

“Something’s wrong with our vehicle,” she said quietly.

Sure enough, they were jolted almost immediately as a half dozen legs folded and collapsed on one side. The remaining ones thrashed for a few more seconds before falling silent as well. The broodlings began to screech, some annoyed, some frightened.

“Is it dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Kachinka inclined her antennae toward a set of exposed ventricles. “It’s still breathing.”

“What do you suppose happened?”

She curled into the posture of confusion-and-mild-concern. “I suppose it might be sick.”

Chirr was about to make an intemperate remark when one of the broodlings swarmed up his body and clamored for attention, gesturing with one arm toward the containment line.

Something was struggling to emerge from the thornfire bush. “That’s impossible!” Chirr’s whispered protest was loud enough to send the broodlings into another furious race up and down the inner walls of their vehicle.

But there was no question that the human exterminator was making its way steadily forward through the barrier, brushing the thornfire barbs aside with frightening ease.

“We can’t wait for this thing to wake up,” he said quietly. “We’re going to have to make a run for it.”

Kachinka glanced meaningfully at the horde of broodlings swarming around them.

“Yes, I know. But we don’t have any choice.”

“All of them?” Nakrok glared at the biotechnician. “Are you saying they’re all inactive?”

“Yes, sir.” The technician didn’t look happy. “Somehow they’ve been contaminated with a contagious neuro-agent. There are several strains of virus that would have this effect. Frell’s an expert on viruses. I’m sure he can find a counteragent as soon as we’ve located him.”

Grackl entered the room at that moment, assumed the posture of frustrated-lack-of-success. “He’s nowhere within the headquarters area, and one of the centivans is missing.”

Nakrok’s mandibles clenched with anger. “Well, we’ll have to make do without him then. You!” He pointed directly at the technician. “Isn’t there a general serum we can use to get the thornfires back on line?”

But before he could answer, one of Grackl’s staff burst into the room with more bad news. “The lawyers have broken out of their pen!”

Grackl twisted into extreme-rage-with-overtones-of fear. “If they escape into the main park, we’ll never catch them. They’re the cleverest of the lot.”

“They’re not headed for the park. Noctor saw them breaking into the library.”

“The library?” Grackl turned to Nakrok, who slowly curled into admitted-lack-of-answer.

Chirr and Kachinka led the broodlings into a small cavern for the night. “Don’t worry,” she reassured the young ones. “They’re modified tree dwellers and won’t come down after us.” She felt less confident than she sounded.

“What do you suppose happened?” Chirr was still shaking from the exertions of the day. They’d evaded the exterminator with some difficulty, encountered what appeared to be an immature butler dusting the leaves in a fern grove, and were briefly chased by a pair of letter carriers before eluding them in a swamp.

“I have no idea. The park security system must have malfunctioned. I’m sure they have parties out looking for us, but the park is so big, I think we’ll have to make our way back on our own.”

And so they did, over the course of the next day, arriving in sight of the headquarters compound just as the Sun was starting to drop behind the nearby mountains.

“Everything looks quiet,” Kachinka observed quietly. They were crouched on a knoll, staring down into the cluster of buildings.

“Too quiet. Where is everybody?”

“Out looking for us?”

In the cramped space, it was difficult to assume skepticism-with-hope so Chirr compromised on uncertainty-with-anticipation.

“Well, we can’t wait here. Let’s go.”

Chirr led, followed by a double column of broodlings, with Kachinka following to make sure none of the young ones strayed. They crossed the cultivated grounds without incident, reached the entrance to the main hall.

“I’ll take them inside,” Kachinka offered. “You find out where everybody is.”

Chirr inclined into acceptance-of-suggestion and waited only long enough to assure himself that the last of the broodlings was accounted for before proceeding.

The estivation room was empty, the feeding hives abandoned, the centi-van nest quiet. Chirr passed them by and headed for the park control room, convinced that it would be occupied even if everyone else had been evacuated.

Grackl hailed him as he approached, rushing out into the open to embrace Chirr with intertwined antennae. “You’ve survived! And the others?”

Chirr explained quickly. “What happened?”

Grackl shifted rapidly through a number of postures, conveying confusion, anger, fear, uncertainty, and a host of other unpleasant emotional states.

“The thornbush was deactivated. We’ve just managed to get an antidote flushed through the system.”

Chirr allowed himself to relax slightly. “Then the humans are back under control?”

“Most of them.” Grackl turned an eyestalk toward the control building. “But the lawyers escaped and got into the library. They barricaded the doors, killed and ate poor Skrezzle, and it was pure luck that we were able to surround the place with revived thornfire before they broke out.”

“But they’re confined again, aren’t they? So why do you appear so distraught?”

Grackl’s body slumped into resigned-to-disaster. “They’re smart, you know, smarter than we thought. All this time we’ve been studying them, they’ve been studying us as well. It seems they’ve picked up enough of our language to use the library, and they spent the last day reading.”

“So what? They’re just animals, aren’t they? It’s not as if they can understand what they read.”

“That’s just it. They discovered an obscure law under which they are legally an endangered species, and by the provisions of that law, we can no longer confine them to a prescribed habitat. We have to let them go free.” He assumed the posture of concern-mixed-with-relief. “At least they won’t be able to breed.”

In a remote part of Thoracic Park, two ugly-faced humans closed their eyes and made love.

Content

Thoracic Park
by Don D’Ammassa