Plasma Frequency Magazine: Issue 13 Read Free

their powder grey smocks, and shuffled past tiny carriages to their posts. I lingered a moment longer, hoping the will to act would spontaneously burst upon me, a caged animal set free. But I remained unmoved.
    I turned as a shrill cry echoed through the high-walled chamber, a sound both familiar and alien. The children, all toddlers between the age of one and two years, had been given a mild dose of laudanum to calm them, but the process had not yet contained their emotions. Occasional outbursts were tolerated.
    The bonnets had been laid out in a line on deal tables. I selected number three, carefully lifting the contraption onto a form beside a high wooden stool. It looked more like a bee hive than a child's bonnet, but the cheery nickname had been applied long before the scorching had taken creativity from the world.
    The tall rounded cone, wound with brass and copper staples like the underside of a railroad track, glowed at the edges from the tiny ray generator spinning like a high-speed locomotive around the inner lining. I didn't know the scientific magic involved. I simply placed the device and set the connections. My job wasn't to ensure the scorching ray seared its sinister template into the subject's brain. I was merely a kind face, a pleasant babysitter for children who hadn't yet been altered, and who would never after feel the need for comfort.
    ~
    The first of my carriages pushed forward, drawn by electric wires embedded beneath the checkered linoleum floor. The fair-haired little boy inside shuddered as I lifted him onto the stool. His tiny hands clenched briefly when I placed the bonnet over his head, dropping to his sides as the scorching device flashed from brim to point.
    "There we go." I removed the device. The boy's trembling lip had set into a firm line, his fear burned away. "That wasn't anything at all, was it?"
    He stared at me, unblinking. The template had rewired his brain, burning away some bits, and fusing connections together where none had existed.
    I lowered him back into his carriage without another word.
    ~
    Work progressed with methodical, machine-like efficiency for nearly an hour before bonnet number three began to display signs of instability.
    The movable cartridge faltered, jamming in its mad dash around the inner rings of the device. I tapped the housing. It skipped, making a squeal like a phonograph record, and then continued its circuit and completed the process. The dark-skinned boy beneath never complained. He gazed at me with the same unblinking stare when I pulled the bonnet away.
    A spark of bright ruby light erupted from the cowl as I laid it back on the form. I glanced along the row of scorch mothers, but none had noticed. The warden marched relentlessly along the periphery of the room, her attention distracted by the immense vacuum tubes. I thought for a moment to call for her, but hesitated. She would take the bonnet, and I'd be sent home.
    Because of my flawed scorching , I preferred to work. The monotony of daily chores at the hands of my father stirred unwanted twinges of boredom. The feelings were unsettling. The less I experienced them, the better.
    ~
    My next charge mewed, stirring in her carriage. I tucked her onto the stool without thinking, as mindless as a walking Babbage engine, and picked up the bonnet.
    Her brown eyes widened. She cried, trying to climb from the seat as I brought the device closer. She wore the same forlorn expression as the girl who'd been struck by the Omni, although it seemed jarringly out of place on such a young face. I frowned, wondering why I'd thought of the accident.
    "Now... Penelope." I had to check the paper tag pinned to her frilly blue dress. "Be still. This won't hurt, not even a tiny bit."
    I arranged her three times before she'd settle down long enough for me to get the bonnet on her head. Even then, she flailed her arms so much I thought I might have to call the warden after all.
    "Hold still, and this will be over in a